


A Selection of Kisses

by tinypeches



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypeches/pseuds/tinypeches
Summary: A bunch of drabbles from kiss prompts all rolled into one little depechy package.





	1. First Kiss (Andy/Martin)

It was three in the morning and Andy wanted to sleep. He was horribly drunk, head beginning to pound, and he wished he had the tolerance that his leather-clad friend had. Martin was up on his shoulders like he was a toddler getting a ride from an older relative - which said a lot being the now-shortest member of the band. The perfect place to keep singing _“The grabbing hands grab all they can, everything counts in large amounts”_ like the audience had only hours ago.

Just slurred to hell.

They finally got up to their hotel room, Martin ducking and laughing as he touched the top of the door frame. Andy threw the key on the dresser and let Martin crawl down his back, promptly collapsing onto the bed on his back.

“A little more wine before bedtime, Fletch?” Martin grinned to him, holding the cheap bottle of red up. Andy gave him his index and middle finger, then let his hand drop over his eyes.

Martin shrugged, looking at the bottle, then to the bed, putting it back in its little basket before he took off his jacket and climbed over Andy’s frame, forehead-to-forehead.

“Huh?” Andy moved his hand, his face flushed. Definitely the alcohol. Not from Martin. Definitely not from Martin.

He was waiting for Martin to do something; maybe roll onto the other side of him and pass out, or say hello, or keep singing Everything Counts. But it was nothing but ambient city noise and someone’s television a few rooms down.

Before he could properly register that the tips of their noses bumped a bit, Martin kissed him, soft and sleepy. Less of a kiss, more of a drag of his lips against Andy’s and the taller man froze. Martin leaned back, eyes up to him, exhaling a breath.

“You kissed me,” Andy whispered, the only words he could muster out.

“Yeah,” Martin nodded, chewing at his bottom lip in what was _either playing meek_ or _actual nervousness_ , it could be either one of them.

“Oh.”

The ambient noise was gone when Martin kissed him again, still soft, still horribly sleepy and lazy. And it was… nice. Andy moved his hands up to cup the blond’s face, kissing him back. That felt nice, too. Why did this feel nice? Why is he willingly kissing his best friend? Why does Martin smell good? Is it the wine? Why was he asking himself questions, he couldn’t even operate a lock ten minutes ago.

The kiss didn’t last long, as Martin pulled back and rested his head on Andy’s shoulder, passing out. The comfort of the bed and the light mass that was Martin on top of him was getting Andy close to doing the same. 

_Fuck. We kissed. We kissed?_

Maybe they’ll both forget what just happened. For some reason, Andy didn’t want to.


	2. Distracting Kiss (Dave/Alan)

Alan looked like a bloody cockatoo with his hair lately. The band made sure he was aware of that at least once an hour. It eventually evolved to calling him “a big leather cock” and for some reason it made Dave giggle like crazy.

“Oh let off, it’s not bad!” Alan retaliated, turning around in his chair to look at the younger singer, “You think you don’t look any better, you look like someone dunk you head first into some shitty vanilla ice cream.”

That didn’t make Dave’s laugh go away, in fact it made it worse, “At least I’m edible then!”

Alan sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back around to the dashboard of modules and dials, focusing on what he was trying to do for the last half-hour. Martin and Andy had left with some of the other studio crew for coffee and crisps, leaving him alone with this antsy piece of shit who wanted to touch everything.

David’s laughter waned eventually, actually staying put and watching Alan work. It did fascinate him, to be fair. He knew how Andy and Martin worked, but Alan and Gareth knew so much more. It was just fun to watch them work so simply on machines that dizzied him with too many options.

He slowly rolled his chair forward as the other was back to work, trying to remain quiet. When he was close enough, he stood up, hovering over Alan’s shoulder, watching his fingers nudge and move things that, Dave assumed, would benefit the synths in the bigger picture. His attention turned to Alan’s profile, his eyes, his nose, and his pursed in lips. With a smile, he put his hand on the opposite shoulder, and leaned in to kiss as close to his lips as he could, brushing the corner.

Alan jumped, turning his head, Dave leaning back quick and smiling bright. “What!” There was a flustered anger in his voice, definitely not expecting the kiss. He knew Dave had a penchant for being crafty when left alone, but a kiss was different. He didn’t get an answer, just another peck.

“The cock is hard at work,” he said low, and Alan nearly slapped him across the face. Dave stepped back and stumbled into the chair, luckily, and laughed again.


	3. Back Kiss (Alan/Martin)

“Come on.”

But it was a Sunday. No press. No concert. Alan had just gotten out of the shower while Martin was still laying in bed in… some girl’s panties from the night before.

“No,” the blond turned his head and muffled his response into the pillow. “Early.”

“That’s how mornings work,” Alan pulled the sheet and Martin flinched, whining and holding back his little chuckle, a blue eye peeking from the bland white fabric of the hotel pillow. “Please?”

Martin gave a negative-sounding muffle, hiding his face into the pillow once more. He felt a warm, moist kiss peck at the back of his neck and he rolled his shoulders, shaking his head as he felt another, another, holding back another chuckle as he felt another and another. Alan moved onto the bed, the tips of his fingers finding the notches of his spine and placing his kisses over each one.

“I'tickles,” Martin moved his hand back behind him to swat at Alan, still feeling warm presses of the other’s lips on his back.

“Then come on and get up,” Alan smiled over the small of Martin’s back, kissing the spot in a little circle before he felt the blond roll over, the make-up on his face smudged all over. He laughed.

“What,” Martin frowned, sitting up, “I’m being bloody productive, it’s…” he turned his head to the clock, “10 o-fucking-clock Alan why…”

“Oh no no,” Alan moved up, “You just look a bit more tart than you usually do.”

Martin lifted his leg and aimed for a kick to his side, rightfully missing and the two laughing anyway.


	4. Kissing While Moving (Alan/Dave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Little note: SOFAD era, drug use is mentioned)

“Where are you going?”

Dave had his hand on the door, turning around to see Alan still sitting comfortably on the couch. He shrugged and flashed a smile, “Out. Got some plans with TC I’d hate to miss.”

Alan didn’t give a smile back, “Is that what you call it now?”

A hush came over Dave, his smile faltering, stepping away from the door and over to Alan. “For fuck’s sake, just because you caught me doesn’t mean I’m actually going off to-”

“You make it sound like I caught you wanking off in a sock. You were shooting up in my damn room, David.”

He hated hearing Alan use his name like that, it shouldn’t have stung as hard as it should. “Cha-”

“Don’t,” he stood up, and Dave watched him, defensively, “think you could Charlie your way out of this. You can still help out, even though those things you hate to miss are so important you don’t even come to the studio at all. Are they? Is it?”

“It’s fine, I know what I’m doing-”

“Do you!” Alan nearly shouted, startling Dave, taking a step back as Alan stepped forward. “Just… god, look at you. You’re getting thinner every time I see you. You’re gonna waste away at this rate.” He lunged forward as Dave tried to turn away, holding up his hand, looking over his arm, “You honestly are.” He sighed, “And you really don’t care how it affects other people, do you.”

Dave was still quiet, glancing to left and right; the den was silent, everyone had left or was busy working in other parts of the rented house. Right now, it was just him and Alan. “Like you?” He finally said, his hand trying to twitch free, but his wrist was held firmly. He almost didn’t realize that he had stepped closer and he was stepping backward until he nearly lost his footing on the change of carpet and hardwood flooring.

“Exactly,” Alan stopped, his other hand moving to caress Dave’s jawline, the fuzz of facial hair soft under his fingertips. “So just stay tonight. At the bloody least.”

“Al, I can’t miss a date, come on-” he was stopped with a kiss, breathing in through his nose in surprise, almost losing his footing again as he was walked backward, stopping against a wall. Dave moved his free hand to Alan’s shoulder, wanting to push him away until his wrist was grabbed, both of them forced to the wall on either side of his head, startling the singer.

“No,” Alan finally broke the kiss, looking over Dave’s face, his gently parted lips. “Stay.”

He let out an exasperated laugh, “I’m not a fucking dog,” but that didn’t seem to sway Alan in the slightest, his grip tightening on Dave’s wrists and going back in for another, heavier kiss. His breathing hitched, trying to move, but was only pushed more against the wall, practically stuck. Alan forced his tongue through into Dave’s mouth, making him shudder and almost weaken immediately.

He pulled back eventually, their breaths mingling, making Alan smile. “Stay,” he said again in a whisper. Dave looked up at him, face flushed, and let out a sigh.

“Only if you kiss me like that again.”


	5. Morning Kiss (Andy/Martin)

When Andy opened his eyes, everything was beige. He hated it. When he turned his head to the left, everything was a fir green sort of color. He hated it.

He closed his eyes, and dared himself to turn his head to the right. When he opened his eyes, he saw bright, bright blond curls, still teased and fluffed, and a soft, sleeping face, with deep red lips that didn’t even looked touched. They were plenty busy last night, and he swore Martin tossed around in his sleep, how his make-up stayed so well was forever going to be a mystery.

This he didn’t hate. He smiled at it, kissing Martin’s nose. He even smelled good. Nothing like the alcohol or cigarettes that nearly drowned them the previous night. Maybe it was someone’s perfume, maybe it was just him. Andy kissed his nose again, his arm moving over his waist to push Martin closer. The blond made a sound in the back of his throat, prompting Andy to kiss the corner of his mouth instead.

As Martin opened his eyes, barely a squint, Andy kissed him chastely on the lips. His eyes widened, watching him, holding his breath as the other didn’t even notice he had awoken. He immediately closed his eyes as the kiss broke, like nothing happened, able to feel Andy’s gaze on him. He said… something, Martin couldn’t quite hear it, and there was yet another kiss to his lips. Did Andy just not realize? He could say something, but that didn’t feel like a friendly thing to do.

Martin sighed, turning his head just a bit and kissing him back. He heard Andy gasp, and he probably would have fumbled out of bed if Martin’s hand wasn’t on his hip, leaning in to search for his kiss again. Andy let him find it, the suddenness of it all leaving as quick as it came.


	6. Kissing A Scrunched-Up Face (Dave/Martin)

Taking a shower together was a great excuse to get naked and close to one another, plus it saved on time on days like these, when you’re already 'kinda late'.

Martin’s hair was more difficult, and Dave decided to help with that first. It gave him an excuse to get his fingers in his curls, though they weren’t as impressive when wet. Martin rubbed his face with his palms, groaning and still waking up.

“I hate timezones. You’d figure I’d get use to them, but sometimes one just forgets,” Martin said with a sigh. Dave chuckled, his hands away from Martin’s head for a moment to grab the tiny bottle of hotel shampoo, giving the blond a chance to shake his head from side to side, still trying to rile up some energy pre-coffee.

“I’m lucky I’m already an early riser, but yeah, the jump was a little off-guard, for some reason,” Dave shrugged, turning Martin around to face him, flashing a perky little smile as his lathered fingers returned to the blond’s scalp, massaging and working the soap into his hair.

“Rain can do that,” he said quietly, his eyes on the newest tattoo on Dave’s wrist. He flinched, a bit of shampoo trickled down his forehead and right into his eye, closing them tight and backing up, “Ah, fuck-”

“-what?” Dave stood back, Martin rubbing his eye, unfortunately not helping. “Oh, uh, here, hang on,” he stepped out of the shower quickly to get another washcloth, getting it damp and covering Martin’s hand with it. There was a murmur of a thanks, carefully washing the soap away. “You alright?”

Martin nodded, looking up at Dave, blinking hard a few times before his eyes closed tight again. “Almost.” His face scrunched up; it wasn’t stinging as bad now, but some residue in the corner of his eye was bothering him like crazy.

David smiled, amused at the little situation, his finger curling under Martin’s chin and kissing the corner of his eye, brushing at the crows feet with his thumb. “Did that help?”

Martin blinked a few more times, looking up at Dave, smiling back at him. “It was all a ruse to kiss me, was it?”

“What-me, no!” he laughed, “I can get away with that any time I want. I just took advantage of a situation.”


	7. Looking At Their Lips, Then Kissing (Dave/Martin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (NSFW)

Martin’s black-lacquered fingernails were digging into the small of Dave’s lower back, feeling the rolling motions of his hips. The pace was slow, but determined and exact, and even if he knew what followed each draw back, the thrust was still enough to draw a moan of Dave’s name, or any other one-syllable word or sound escaped his lips at that moment.

David’s forehead rested against the blond’s, breathing softly and listening to his own heart race like a backbeat to the music that was Martin’s voice. The air around them was getting hotter, for sure, the air conditioning in the hotel room surprisingly not helping in the slightest.

He turned his head a bit, looking over Martin’s face; his furrowed eyebrows, eyes closed, lips gently parted. His chap stick, if he remembered the brag correctly, was also a great lip gloss, and it showed. He could practically taste the artificial pomegranate on them, and he wanted to more than ever then and there.

During his moment, however, he had slowed down his motions, and Martin’s hands went down over his ass, fingernails digging in and pushing him forward with a hiss. Dave gasped and his attention went back to what was definitely more important, balling up the fabric of the sheets below them in his hands. “Oh, fuck-”

Dave bowed his head, getting control of his breathing, glancing over Martin’s chest, his neck, his jawline, and back to his lips. Martin was biting at them, licking his lower lip, before they parted again in louder, desperate strings of moans. He was fixated on them again, unaware that, again, he nearly stopped.

“David!” Martin called out, and startled the singer, his eyes up and looking over Martin’s face. The blond let out a breathless laugh. “You’re teasing me, come on.”

Dave smiled, _yes, it was a tease, I wasn’t getting sidetracked at all_ , closing the gap and taking the other’s mouth in the kiss that he had been dying for this whole time. He groaned, probably a little too loudly, actually surprised at the pomegranate actually tasting like pomegranate and moved one of his hands under Martin’s head, cradling the back of his neck. Martin welcomed the kiss and let his tongue forward, finding Dave’s and playing around it as his fingernails dug into his skin and scratched up to his lower back.

Dave’s breath hitched, breaking the kiss for barely a second before going back into it, reveling in the taste and heat of everything around him, focusing it all on the kisses to Martin’s lips.


	8. Last Kiss (Alan/Dave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (NSFW; implied)

They said this would be the last time nine times ago.

They said they need to end it, no matter how many times Alan will be drawn to the warmth of Dave’s skin or how many times Alan’s placed his hands on Dave and he’s leaned closer without a second guess.

This will be it. They promise. They promise to promise. No more.

Maybe that’s why it’s so intense. Dave can’t even get a breath out without Alan’s lips harsh against his own in a kiss. He practically wants to suck the life from him, and the singer was weak to it the moment they landed on the couch. Their clothing was removed at some point in the night, the reluctance in getting that little square packet from somewhere on Alan’s person, lotion came from somewhere too, it was all a blur.

All that mattered was the kiss. Dave’s fingers in Alan’s hair, Alan’s nails scritching into the fabric of the couch on either side of Dave’s head. Any time Dave broke the kiss in a gasp, arching his back and moaning, Alan felt greedy and took it back. All of his responses on this night belonged to Alan.

When they’re finished, Dave can finally breathe, light-headed but satisfied. Alan is at his favorite place at the crook of his neck.

“…I think that’s a good end,” Dave whispers.

“Yeah,” barely a word, but understood, as Alan stays there.

This really was the last time. The last kiss.

_They’ve always been such shitty liars._


End file.
